Me: Always choose a couture bridal specialist to work on your wedding dress. The skills they have over your aunt’s friend or your own DIY efforts if you’re not a pro are worth every penny.
Also me: I’m not spending £8 – eight whole pounds – on that Hobbycraft kit when I can make one myself for my children’s birthdays.
I’m disappointed.
Not in an epically understated way, like my gracious German cousins last week ⚽️🎉.
More like when I go out for Chinese food and the main course never seems to live up to splendiferous platter of prawn toasts, satay chicken sticks, spring rolls and duck pancakes we had for the starter.
I blame husband. Not my husband, nor anyone else’s, but the word ‘husband’ itself. Specifically, its etymology. Because after I learned that it shares its origin with 007 and bondage for my last blog post, I had high hopes for its feminine counterpart.
Alas, ‘wife’ began its recorded life as Old English wif, meaning… wife.
However, ‘wif’ could also mean woman, irrespective of marital status. So I researched ‘woman’. And here I found my nugget of geek gold.
An anomalous quirk of English language evolution is that the word ‘wife’, i.e. a woman as a man’s possession (the predominant mentality of the time), predates ‘woman’ as a female person generally.
Disappointed AND retroactively outraged.
So I embroidered the shit out of a veil and felt much better.
Remember that scene in Four Weddings and a Funeral where Carrie asks Charles why he thinks it’s called a honeymoon? Charles suggests that it’s honey because it’s as sweet as honey and moon because it’s the first time a husband gets to see his wife’s bottom. Well, wouldn’t you just know it? He’s actually (partially) right. Just not about the butt cheeks.
It is indeed honey because it’s something sweet. BUT (not butt) it’s actually meant ironically, to describe something that seems wonderful now but won’t last, hence when people talk about the ‘honeymoon period’ of a project or endeavour, etc, with the implicit expectation of it all going to shit.
This is because of the nature of the phases of the moon: it is no sooner full than it begins to wane. So, ‘honeymoon’ is a rather cynical remark on the newlyweds’ long-term prospects for happiness.
Perhaps the last laugh is on the cynics though; they seem to have forgotten that even when the moon disappears entirely, it will start to wax once more and reach its full glory again (and again, and again) soon enough. That sounds sweet enough to me. Peachy even.
Weddings in the UK are officially back ON, from 8 March with maximum six people. Hurrah for my bride planning to elope with her intended!
Unfortunately, I can’t reopen for in-person appointments – including fittings – until 12 April. So how’s she supposed to get her dress altered.
She even suggested doing her fitting outdoors, hoping we’d be within the rules when two people can meet outdoors for food or drinks. Sadly not the case and besides, my two children will be back at school and exposed to 180 people daily by then so I’m not as isolated as I could be. It’s just not worth the risk.
But we’ve struck upon a solution. We’ll do her fitting via videocall, with me guiding her mum (whom she lives with) on where to stick the pins and which bits to measure. Then we can exchange the dress contact-free and I’ll alter it for her.
Adapt, adapt, adapt.
I have MADE IT. Two very exciting, seminal, touchstone moments happened yesterday, both sparked by my moon-phase veil (This Is Not A Phase, pictured):
1. I received my first order through my brand new online shop;
2. I encountered my first troll.
This veil has received a lot of love, for which I am very grateful. But one person’s love for it quickly descended into something else. This is the message I received, in full:
I KNOW you shouldn’t feed the trolls. But I had obviously made someone very angry so I compulsively sent her a little love:
Now I know WHY you shouldn’t feed the trolls; I received this:
And this:
Continuing in a new screengrab:
And another:
Thank you for making it this far. I admit that this subsequent essay rattled me. I have mentally drafted several responses and justifications for how I set my prices and they all involve fundamental economics, detailed accountancy, my latest tax return and a spreadsheet so I will spare you all of them. You’re welcome.
Instead, while anyone involved in planning a wedding (actually, anyone generally) is having a tough time riding out the pandemic, I will take a small measure of success wherever I find it. 👹💕
Edited to add, for the record, payment methods I accept are cash, credit/debit cards, bank transfer, PayPal and, if you really have to, cheque, but not severed limbs (they stain my lovely fabrics) and DEFINITELY not babies.
